


Rules of Inheritance (Kiss prompt 1)

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [36]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Durins, F/F, Gen, Heir of Durin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: To be born with a destiny is no easy thing...
Relationships: Dís/Dís's Spouse
Series: The Dwelf series [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/593011
Kudos: 17
Collections: Raiyana's Personal Prompt Collection





	Rules of Inheritance (Kiss prompt 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Anon for #1

“You’re so precious, aren’t you, gilmîth,” Dís crooned, rocking her tiny swaddled pebble and smothering little Fíli’s face in kisses. Víli looked on, torn between amusement at her wife – Dís had never been the cooing type, _before_ – and pride at what they had crafted together, still lost in marvelling at the golden fuzz that covered the pebble’s head.

 _That is my son_.

Curving a hand – carefully scrubbed clean of mining dust before she even entered the room – around the small head, Víli smiled at the feel of it, sleek softness with enough curl in it already that she thought Fíli might take after Dís’ wavy locks.

_My son._

_And future King_.

A strange thought – humbling, too – knowing that she was looking at Thorin’s mortality made flesh; so strange, despite how wounded she had seen him, worn down or bloody from some scuffle he wouldn’t speak of… so strange to think that one day Thorin would be gone and Fíli would be the one to shoulder the burden of responsibility for the Folk of Durin.

_I’m sorry, pebble… it is a heavy duty; I promise your Amad and I will help you carry it, always._

“I’m sorry,” Thorin said, echoing Víli’s thoughts from the doorway, “I wish…”

Dís looked up at him, and Víli felt a moment’s envy at the perfect way the two of them always understood each other.

“I know,” she replied, pressing another kiss to the small forehead, “but I have always known that I should bear the next King of our line, brother. And that was my choice, gladly made.”

“A gift I can never repay,” Thorin nodded, “though I swear to do my best by him.”

“And that is all we will ask,” Víli heard herself say, thumb stroking a tiny cheek in slow calming moves, watching Fíli yawn and fall asleep in his Amad’s arms, safe and secure, and loved beyond thought. “Though… do try to live a long time, Thorin,” she added thoughtfully, “let him grow up wise before it’s his turn.”

“ **Ins Mahal taglibi luknu**.[1]”

Víli had – at her wedding – been the recipient of that Royal bow, but it felt like _more_ now, a solemn oath acknowledged, and this time she did not have the mad urge to tell him to stand up and stop bowing to the likes of her.

This time, they were, if not equals, _family_.

She smiled, returning the bow with a nod of her own.

“ **Ins Mahal taglibi luknu**.”

[1] As Mahal would speak (it is the truth / it is so)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still accepting prompts!


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